Half A World Away
by Sham Harga
Summary: Post OotP - Remus takes a holiday, to do some serious thinking. Allusions to slash, RemusxSirius. Don't like, don't read.


Disclaimers:

The characters or places mentioned herein belong to J.K.Rowling, not me. The birds, however, are just about mine.

'Half A World Away' was written by R.E.M

'I Am The Walrus' (which I have meddled with, for reasons which should later become obvious) was written by the Beatles (Lennon/McCartney if you're being pedantic)

WARNING: Contains allusions to slash and some sexual metaphors. Don't like, don't read.

**This could be the saddest dusk I've ever seen**

**Turn to a miracle, high alive.**

The September afternoon is drawing to a close and the warm beach is empty save for the occasional furtive crab darting between the handful of bleached rocks sown hopefully across the soft field of sand. A loud crack breaks the heavy, slumbering quiet, tossing a handful of startled birds into the blue sky from their peaceful reverie in the sparse trees that border the beach. They twitter indignantly at the figure now standing alone on the shore. His threadbare clothes flutter in the warm breeze, the soft fingers of air teasing through the many holes and frays in the material that cling to his emaciated frame, like rags on a scarecrow, or discarded paper wrapped around a lamppost. His hair, as thin as his shirt, shivers in the breeze as he runs his hands through it, tugging it uneasily, the strands shining silver and gold in the fading light but dimmed and tarnished, only a pallid reflection of their former beauty. He drops the small bag he is holding to the ground, the worn fabric collapsing wearily into the shifting sand as the man surveys the glittering horizon with shielded eyes.

**My mind is racing, as it always will,**

**My hand is tired, my heart aches**

**I'm half a world away, here.**

The war is over; Harry, brave, young, indomitable Harry, had defeated Voldemort and claimed victory for the Order. A great, menacing weight has been lifted from the Wizarding world, allowing it to breathe once more. Remus felt the release, too, but with the consuming oppression gone he only felt empty. The Order had given him the occupation that wizarding law denied him, he had had allies, friends who felt bonded to him as a fellow champion for good. The Dark Creature working for Dumbledore's army had managed to steal just a little of the Light for himself, but now that the Light had won and dominated everything it merely cast him in shadow. Even the sun itself is about to abandon him to the dark. The red, swollen orb lays heavy in the sky, balancing precariously on the horizon, trailing its last few glimmers of memory on the ever-changing water before it can admit defeat and sink gratefully, succumbing to the quiet darkness. He feels rid of cause and aim, victory having gleefully snapped his cord of purpose – leaving him floating aimlessly in the new, too-bright dawn with a body tired of struggle and a heart wearied by loss.

And who would have thought that emptiness could feel so heavy?

My head sworn to go it alone  
And hold it along, haul it along and hold it  
Go it alone, hold it along and hold, hold

'Get away.'Dumbledore had said.

_Get away._

He had hastily shoved the essentials into a bag and escaped the celebrations as soon as he'd dared. His farewell to Harry had been short and simple,

"I'm going away. I may be some time."

Where? Remus hadn't been able to answer that. He hadn't decided himself until the moment came to Apparate. Then he'd remembered an isolated beach, barely a golden outline on the acres of French woodland. He, Sirius, James and Peter had discovered the secluded spot on their impromptu world tour after their final year, as far as the term 'world tour' could be stretched to apply to four days' worth of drinking in Dublin followed by a fortnight working in a seedy Australian café wondering how they had arrived there, and, more importantly, who exactly was to blame. The final leg of the journey was a desperate attempt to make the trip back to England in small and manageable steps, which was plagued by abysmal planning, empty pockets and general geographical ineptitude. The undisputed highlight of the otherwise chaotic holiday was the penultimate stop; camping on an anonymous beach while the Mediterranean lazily tickled the shore.

_Get away._

Isolated, calm and miles away from Hogwarts – it was perfect.

_Take some time to yourself._

Remus sinks slowly to the ground, breathing deeply the sweet silence. No congratulations or commiserations, no jubilant cheers mixed with bitter tears, just the gentle, soothing whisper of breaking waves. No anguished glances at the empty chairs at the Weasley table. No toasts to the martyrs, broken voices echoing the empty clink of raised glasses. He had had to escape the endless scroll of death, names flowing into one, etched in stone, doting father, beloved son, Bill, Percy, Emmeline Dedalus KingsleySiriusPeter.

He had to escape the living, those unfamiliar souls who remained only to remind him of those who didn't, to put safe barriers of distance between himself and the loss that was slowly eroding his spirit.

**This lonely deep sit hollow,**

**I'm half a world, half the world away. **

**My shoes are gone, my life spent.**

He kicks his tattered shoes off, their loose soles providing no barrier against the persistent sand. He digs his bare feet into the cool sand, the gentle tickle of shifting grains soothing on the aching arches, his soles hardened from use, but tired, so deeply tired of running. The sand pours between his toes as through an hourglass, the years slipping by, unstoppable, eroding his life, and, even as his toes clench, slipping away from his grip.

So tired.

He can escape the living, he can run until his feet bleed and come to a panting stop on this remote beach, and for what? To fall, exhausted, into the arms of memories and find himself tangled in their shadowy embrace.

For here was where James had buried Peter, grinning head flushed pink above the burial mound of sand; smile now blue against the faded cheek resting on the soft silk caress of the coffin pillow.

Dust to dust.

Ten little piggies drown in sand until the wind shrouds them completely.

Ashes to ashes.

The remains of James' broom burned merrily after its final, tragic battle against the waves. Remus can almost see James, arms outstretched as he floated along with the wave, whooping until the final curl of water dragged both boy and broom into a crushing blue grip. He remembers Sirius' laughter as he consoled his broken hearted friend before tossing the crippled corpse onto the greedy bonfire.

He can't escape it. It's all sun, sea, sand, Sirius.

The smell of seawater clinging to tangled seaweed hair.

The taste of salt as tongues brush lips, cheeks, necks, wet flesh sliding and melding.

Sand everywhere. Tickling, scratching, stroking, fingers and sand and rolling bodies.

The thin grey clouds creeping in to frame the horizon are laughing stormy eyes, teasing, calling.

Remus. Remus. Re-mus.

_Re _the soft breath of the wave as it builds, rising, proud and firm, _mus_ the water whispers as it pulls back across the pebbles, licking, lapping, sucking at the smooth stones.

He cannot stand it. Remus reaches inside the bag, grasping the cool, smooth bottle. He uncaps the firewhisky and inhales deeply.

**I had too much to drink**

**I didn't think, I didn't think of you.**

**I guess that's all I needed**

As he takes a swig Remus is reminded of that first forbidden sip that burned the throat and made the eyes water in protest and made him wonder why anyone would drink the vile spirit out of choice.

James grimaced, Peter had choked and Remus had desperately tried to keep a straight face, mouth twitching in disgust as his eyes stung. Sirius, who had stolen the bottle from his father's copious supply and claimed to be a regular drinker, took a proud swig in contempt of their measly sips and nearly threw up on the carpet, his thirteen year old liver rebelling against such treatment.

Remus takes another gulp and lets the alcohol wash over his mind and clear his senses. Everything is sharper when filtered through amber liquid, each grain of sand an individual story, rock battered and worn by time and the elements to a tiny crystal; Remus sympathises with the rock and wonders whether any of the sand from his last visit remains.

From the walls of James' sandcastle. The enormous model of Hogwarts, built with the sole purpose of destruction as a demonstration of their freedom and then, six hours later, defended to the death. The final castle was a sprawling masterpiece, carved and crafted with water, magic and pure determination; proud turrets cast their shadows on the surrounding grainy countryside, each detailed window reflecting the harsh sunlight.

Was Peter's name buried here? Filled and suffocated by yet more sand but still there, hidden, invisible. Did the sand remember determined stamps as a young boy tattooed the beach, footprints etching a giant signature along its length.

And did any of the grains remain that so annoyed Sirius by lurking in his underwear? Did they lay there, biding their time, waiting in vain for his return so they appear inexplicably in his pants once again?

Remus absently trails one hand through the ever-moving sand as he grips the bottle in the other, taking comfort in its solidity before drinking deeply.

Half a bottle gone. Remus feels as though the world is drowned in firewhisky. The horizon is distorted, shifting under his gaze, swimming unsuccessfully, half submerged in the flickering sea. The surface is glimmering; the reflected light explodes in vibrant spots in Remus' eyes. It is darker now, the daylight falling towards the setting sun, the golden light pouring away like firewhisky down a plughole.

All Remus can smell is firewhisky, all he can taste is firewhisky through the bitter cotton wool that is coating his tongue. The only sound to reach his ears is the rushing of the sea, or it could be the rushing in his ears; he can't concentrate long enough on the noise to determine which. The only clear things are the memories, although they themselves are spinning. Over here, Peter is rolling down a dune, landing in an awkward heap at the bottom. Sirius runs by, trying to catch the Frisbee sent hurtling over his head by James who is now rising out of the water to splash a surprised Peter, Sirius is grinning, James is falling, Peter is sleeping, Sirius is laughing James is waving Sirius is calling, Remus squeezes his eyes shut and takes another drink. He has to drown the images, bury them in sand and alcohol so he can start afresh and move on.

It is dark now and the last dregs of liquid toss in golden waves in the bottom of the bottle as Remus sways unsteadily, conducting himself as he raises his voices in disjointed, discordant song. His tongue trips about the words as he tries to remember snatches of a half-forgotten song.

_I am me and you are we as you are he and we are all together_. He pauses to stitch the lyrics together in his mind. _See how they fly like pigs in a sty see how they fly. I'm dying. Crying. _

Sound and memory falters and his brow furrows as he tries to recapture the words. _Boy you been a naughty girl you let your knickers down, _he remembers the laughter but it quickly disappears into the distance _I'm crying, _singing round a fire, he can never remember this bit, _sitting on a – on a dum dum, _Remus hums to fill the beats, _waiting for the – _'you always forget', they tell him, it's … what is it? Who taught him? He tries to find the memory, but it's hiding somewhere in the back of his clouded mind.

As he turns one way to grasp it, it disappears, he flails in the other direction, but it is behind him still.

He feels dizzy.

It is like the stars, they shine bright on the edge of his vision but when he faces them they tease him, sinking back into the dark, secret cloak of the night sky.

The stars blur.

The stars.

That one. There. The bright one wheeling in circles of silver as he blinks.

That star.

It has some great importance that he cannot remember, the knowledge slips through his hands like a silver fish.

And as one thought eludes his shaky grasp, so, too, the rest slip away, using the sky's distraction to drain from his brain. And for a moment, for a brief, cold, terrifying moment Remus cannot remember why he is here. Why this place is familiar. Why he is clawing for the flash of grey and black that flees from his mind.

Who he was.

Who he is.

He chokes in fear and the bottle drops from his frozen hand. He is paralysed, the barrier in his mind immobilizes his body, his throat tight with the force of trying to remember. His eyes helplessly scan the bleak, empty sky.

They flicker once more to the star. The pinprick of light in the blackness stares back at him. Without warning, the glimmer becomes the amused twinkle in grey eyes as Sirius laughs down on him.

His thoughts flood back, tumbling chaotically in a mad whirl and relief courses through his bloodstream, hitting him with such force that he retches. He falls forward on his hands, heaving, coughing, laughing, a few grateful tears escaping his bleary eyes.

When the turmoil subsides he sits back, limbs shivering and light, and studies the now stable sky. He smiles in understanding and collapses backwards into the sand.

To go it alone  
And hold it along  
Haul it along and hold it  
Blackbirds, backwards, forwards and fall and hold, hold

**This lonely world is wasted,**

**Pathetic eyes, high alive,**

**Blind to the tide that turns to the sea.**

When Remus wakes the wind has picked up, sending ashen clouds scudding across the bright half moon. The orb is perfectly balanced, full of uncertainty when it could go either way, choose between bright, shining light and secretive, seductive dark. And it was never the dark Remus was afraid of.

The chill breeze invigorates him, his skin pricks and he sits tense, alert, but for once not preparing to run. He smiles, a wry twist of the lips, and enjoys this rare feeling of vigorous power. He had had an epiphany that had removed the oppressive weight from his body. It was running through his mind still, smoothing his thoughts, the once tangled jumble now a sleek thread of purpose. It is not the memories that claw him back, he has discovered, but his own struggles against them that drag him down. It always has been. The memories are a part of him, no, they are all of him, and without them he is nothing, an empty shell, heavy yet meaningless. No doubt he should pour them out, suffer as a blank vessel until life sees fit to refill him, but he no longer has the energy or the will to start over, learn again, forge friendships and suffer losses, travel on with the flow of time, when all he wants is to settle in the sand. He is too full of the past to have a future.

**The storm it came up strong**

**It shook the trees and blew away our fear**

The leaves whisper in answer to the breaking waves as the wind threads through the branches. It whips around Remus' hunched form and teases him upright, and he feels it pushing him towards the waterline. He staggers a little but the cool air steadies him and gives him strength, driving out the fuzzy lethargy from his weary muscles. The glittering water is striking as the moonlight throws up diamonds on the broken surface, striking, and so inviting.

Come on Moony! 

The voice is faint, he barely hears it before it is snatched away by the wind.

The water's great – come on in! 

The laughter is drowned by the hiss of the waves but it echoes relentlessly in Remus' mind. Propelled by longing, desperation and the ushering of a friendly wind Remus begins to run. Sand flies about him as he reaches the water. The first caress of the water sends chills straight down to the bone, but Remus ignores this and leaps untidily into the wave. His soaked clothing is heavy, and pulls back, but something deep within Remus drives on and he ploughs through the black water regardless. The cold water washes away the years of weariness and regret and he is infused with a new energy and desperation that is at once alien and intoxicating. He grins at the moon, daring it to even try to pull at his bones, to govern his soul when he is so filled with lightning himself that sees the moons glow weak and pale in comparison. He laughs aloud, his lungs free and clear and is answered by familiar laughter, near and distant all at once. He spins in the water, sending a shower of crystal raindrops about him as he searches for the source. The laughter continues, just out of hearing, as though filtered through glass. He closes his eyes as he lies flat, drifting, listening, and is rewarded by a whisper in his ear. _Told you you'd love it._

Remus doesn't start, doesn't let his eyes even flutter, he does not break the spell by moving, he simply grins and murmurs, 'I know you did, Padfoot.'

Eyes still closed, Remus lets his arms push the water to his feet, directing his body against the swells that undulate beneath him. His body ripples, snake-like, on the water as he floats in silence. Around him he hears the roaring laughter of James like the breakers vigorously pounding the shore, the guilty giggle of Peter, quiet and lyrical as midnight birdsong, and still, by his ear, he hears the soft breath of Sirius, in rhythm with his own.

Here, right here, is where he belongs. Where he has always belonged. And yet it will all be snatched from him with the first invasive ray of the rising sun.

"What now, Sirius?" he asks, water lapping at the corners of his open mouth.

_Come down Moony. Come down with me._

**I couldn't even hear.**

Remus exhales, a sigh of contentment, and follows Sirius under the water. He slowly lets his body descend, feeling the water envelope him in a tender embrace. The water should be heavy, but his body feels lighter than air, lighter than the bubbles that float from his nose to break on the surface, even as he sinks deeper and deeper. He opens his mouth to speak Sirius, to tell him that he's not afraid, but the water that rushes in carries the words with it back down his throat. He doesn't mind; he knows Sirius understands. He feels lighter now, a little dizzy, the excitement bubbles under the peace that drugs his body. The burden, the weight of the world is captured in the final bubbles that escape the folds of his drowning shirt and rises to the surface of the ocean, bursting into the night air. As peace saturates his heart and the loving night engulfs his brain Remus opens his eyes. He knows Sirius is there, he does not need to turn to see his face. Instead he smiles in contentment and watches as the fading surface above him flutters like a veil as all fades to black.

**This could be the saddest dusk I've ever seen**

**Turn to a miracle**

**High alive.**

**My mind is racing, as it always will.**

**My hand is tired, my heart aches,**

**I'm half a world away.**

**

* * *

**

I'm sorry, so sorry that I did that. I know I should probably have put a 'character death' disclaimer on, but that would have ruined the ending, no? But I'm so sorry my dear, dear Remus.

Don't stone me, please. But flame away.

Sham


End file.
